Soliloquy
by LilyBartAndTheOthers
Summary: The queen of oneshots is back, kiddies. Enjoy it...! It's a Karen-centered story... What could I say more about it? Hum... It may be time for her to face it.


I wish I could come backwards and erase everything; the way I became who I was, by then. I just hate it. When the sky is gray and the rain is pouring down over New York, I'm used to sitting down in the library, on this old armchair I bought once in London during one of my lonely walks; waiting for Stanley to end up some business meeting. Feet up on the edge of the window, I look at the trees of Central Park and all of a sudden I find it, the right one. The reason of my choice is extremely singular and a bit fuzzy too. After years and years of practice, I settled down my conclusions on the fact it's a subconscious decision. Of course I never really miss the symbol; the way it's always the smallest one, the invisible specimen that nobody notices. I want to disappear and be forgotten, just for a couple a seconds; a furtive moment. My mind sets off with a disturbing facility now and within a heartbeat I leave everything behind; the luxury of my life, the material happiness of my smiles, the artificiality of my breath.

It looks so light, so perfect. Its green shapes of hope remind me of the curves of women's hips. Sensuality spreads over all the rest in a quiet motion of logic. I know it will happen because it always does. It's just a matter of time, of patience. If the wind blows softly it means I still have time to contemplate its movements, its appealing anonymity. If it's stormy then I have to hurry up to prevent from being frustrated because there's just one. I never repeat it twice in the same day. It's not how it has to be. My heart starts pounding loud in my chest, against my bones; my fragile frame. I can feel it come, the supreme moment. And then I gasp as it gets its independence and flies in the air majestically. I want to be a leaf so that I may be free.

I was born on a boat somewhere between the delicacy of the Old Continent and the vulgarity of America. That probably explains the person I am, my lack of real home. I'm not at the right place as soon as I stop and look around me; unknown faces staring at me in disbelief before turning their back at me in a motion of disinterest. My complex demeanor only reflects the injuries of my soul and my constant incapacity of being honest, sincere. And I will die in the park of a place I hate just in order I have no regret. Huddled up against myself on a dirty bench, I will close my eyes and send the world to hell before smiling and letting death take me away for this scaring notion of an after-life land. I like blue things and the gray of the waves when it's raining; the smell of hotdogs and walking barefoot in the grass. I can't stand milk and the only song able to ease my pain when I really feel down is "Imagine". I kissed a boy for the first time when I was thirteen and I spend too many hours observing the clouds, trying to connect their shapes to a well-known figure. I'm a dreamer and find reassurance in appearances. I know it's coward but I'm not perfect and I will never be. One day I passed through a closed window because my sister was chasing me with a spider. That's why I have this scar on my wrist. I'm sure some people think I attempted suicide but I don't care, I know where the truth is. For a very long time I thought money would resolve my problems. It did, somehow. I forgot about misery and the life going on in the streets as soon as the night takes possession of the city. Twice a month or so I wake up all of a sudden in the middle of my dreams, shaking, breathing loud. Stanley says it's the sequel to my past. I just think it's a bad trip. I know I sound normal and terribly boring but what were you expecting? What am I expecting?

I have a list of things I want to accomplish. I would have never thought the day I took a pencil and started writing it down that it would be so difficult. At least I appreciate even more then the relief and pride that crossing a number can bring to my heart. It's in five points, sort of articles previous to a contract like the prenuptial one that buried me alive when Stanley tended it to me.

1. Look at the sun vanish in the ocean, sat on the beach of Coney Island

2. Go to Times Square and fill my lungs with the vivacity of the streetlights, its multicolored neon that bring dreams to my soul

3. Have a baby

4. Tell Stanley I'm sorry

5. Be happy

The order has been studied with attention, a chronological one. I can't help smiling when I realize that those points are all connected to him. He invaded my mind and now rests in my heart, embraces my hopes. From a little getaway to the possibility of spending a whole day in his arms, my existence is focalized on his acts with the strength of accident and the brightness of fate. He was made for me; it's a quiet evidence and nobody can disagree. We kissed on Coney Island as the sun had just set over the ocean. He took my hand and locked his eyes with mine on Broadway, then we realized the meaning of events; the reason why we were there, we had come to this point, together. The rest is more complicated but it's time to face it. I'm scared of the consequences. I don't want to hurt anyone and if I had been alone in this story I would have stayed silent and accepted my old mistakes. But he's here, next to me, and I know it's the right thing to do so that I may be done with my list.

The strip was blue this morning. I looked at the stick and the result was positive. Laughing before it, I shook my head and swallowed back a wave of tears. I had lost hopes about it; for the years passing by, the doubts about myself. But it's here.

I'm pregnant.

I think it set off all the rest, my decision to make it all clear and assume my feelings; my happiness. I'm going to say goodbye to Stanley and apologize for having pretended I was fine and at the right place with him. Then I will rush in his arms and let my tears fall down. I hope my friends will understand this peculiar decision but since when do we have a hold over love? It's not an opportunity but the only way so that I may start living; with Will.

And be happy.


End file.
